Voices Fall Silent
by rainingmercedes
Summary: When a voice becomes a deadly weapon, it must be silenced.     Spoilers for Mockingjay. Peeta's point of view in between his propos for the Capitol.
1. Chapter 1

When A Voice Becomes A Deadly Weapon, _It Must Be Silenced_

He gasps so hard he almost chokes as he wakes. He inhales again sharply, and gags and coughs, and breathes again. Tears squeeze out the corners of his clasped eyelids as old and new images burn behind his eyes. Right away, he is aware that he can't move-some kind of straps are keeping him in place on a hard metal table-and it's hot-too hot-in the room. When he opens his eyes, he has to quickly shut them again. A searing white light shines directly above him and he has to blink several times before his eyes begin to adjust. _Something is wrong_. His heart is still racing from the terror of his nightmares. His body throbs painfully as his pulse pounds the blood in his veins. His head feels the worst of it. Had someone hit him? He can't remember. His eyes flicker open again to see a shadow has fallen over his face. He hadn't heard anyone come in.

"Peeta?"

Did he imagine it? It sounded like a song. Was it real? He can't tell, but his eyes come into focus on the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. His heart soars with joy, but then is immediately clenched in dread.

"Katniss! What-" Her hand shoots to clamp over his mouth and cease his ragged voice. Her very touch sends a slight shiver all throughout his body. Her gray eyes are wide with the fear he's so often seen in them. She holds a finger to her perfect lips and gives her head a little shake. He nods, indicating his understanding. Her hand slowly travels up to his forehead and her fingers comb out the sweaty curls that had stuck to his face. He steadily drinks in her appearance, his eyes probing hers for some sense of meaning. She is pale and wears a Capitol uniform he knows all too well. A smear of blood stands out starkly on her chin, as if she'd been splattered and wiped it away in a hurry. Her black hair is woven to the side in her iconic braid. She must have broken in to rescue him. _She shouldn't have done that_. What is her plan? He wants to tell her to leave, to run while she still can, when the wall opens up to reveal a doorway.

He watches her scamper through the opening, never looking back. Fear encapsulates him, further sickens him. _She's going to be captured_. He starts fighting to break free from the bonds that hold him. For he doesn't know how long, he struggles against the straps, but still they hold. What little strength he had wanes. The straps on his arms and legs cut into him.

Suddenly an alarm sounds, intense and echoing. It is so loud, he can barely think to concentrate on anything else, when the wall opens back up and Katniss rushes through it. The knife in her hand is dripping blood from a fresh kill when she uses it to slash through the straps that bind him. With care, she lifts his upper body and gets him into a sitting position. When he slides off the table to stand, his knees buckle beneath his weight. His stiff body hasn't moved much in days, so the effort it requires for him to take on running is great. He is slow, but going. She's quicker, but holding tightly to his hand hinders her.

Without warning, she turns sharply to the right and leads him down another hallway. It is long, and features no outlet; they continue to run. Toward the center, Katniss stops and presses her ear to the wall. Panting, he watches her tap the wall in various places until it opens and she shoves him inside. He collapses to the floor of the nearly pitch black closet. After tentatively feeling about his general location in the smallish space, she wraps her arms around his neck and burrows her face into his chest. He holds her in silence, ready to protect her if anyone should burst in upon them.

Now icy, clammy cold with trepidation, he senses her tears soaking his shirt, and strokes her back. He kisses the top of her head, her cheek, her lips. Her grip on him tightens and his tongue slips past her lips to find nothing but the overwhelming taste of blood. He pulls away.

"No," he whispers. He can almost make her out in the dark. "Oh no," he says and kisses her lips again before embracing her. The horror of what's been done to her burns inside of him.

"Katniss, I'm going to get you out of here. No one's going to hurt you again. I promise. No matter what it takes." His voice, still a bit hoarse, did not lack its usual gentle timbre. He can feel it's soothing her, so he tells her how he loves her, how he'll give anything to save her.

As the hours pass, his strength returns somewhat, along with a sensation of anger he never before possessed. The wall clicks and Katniss bolts to her feet. He rises just as the wall opens to reveal a woman, frozen in surprise as she was reaching for the mop. Katniss knocks her out with one hit of the knife's handle and sprints down the hallway, back the way they had come.

Within minutes, soldiers converge upon them. There are so many that they are easily pulled apart. He struggles to get back to her, hitting and kicking anything and everything, but his hands are roughly wrenched behind his back. He faintly registers the clattering of the knife as it lands on the floor. A needle sticks him from behind and he loses feeling, but not consciousness. His body slackens as they hit her and someone holds his head up to witness it.

They beat her long after her guttural screams have ceased and she's stopped moving. Her blood speckles the walls, the floor, the soldiers, Peeta. He knows he'll never forget the taste of her blood in his mouth.

One of them says how she definitely won't be taking out half of the security system again. Their collective laughter echoes down the hall. Another pokes him.

"What's the matter, Lover Boy? Didn't you enjoy the company of our newest addition? You should know that they never last long."

Peeta wakes, paralyzed with fear and despair. The straps on the table are digging into his wrists. Sticky blood slowly wells in the shallow gashes. Soaked in sweat and his throat raw, he hears Johanna Mason's high-pitched shrieking and wonders when his had stopped. _It wasn't real. It can't be real. What new terrors await his next turn? _


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

He can hear a faint beeping sound. It must be his heart-it matches his pulse, and the dull throbbing ache in his head. With every breath, he can feel himself rising into consciousness. He is so warm and comfortable, cocooned in soft blankets and asleep, that he's reluctant to wake.

He becomes aware of another rhythmic pulse tapping his fingers-someone is holding his hand. His eyes flutter open and he has to blink several times before he can see. His focus sharpens, and there she is: dark hair cascading around her shoulders, olive skin with a light dotting of freckles on her arm, and her lips slightly puckered. _Katniss. She's safe._ A wave of happiness washes over him as his eyes rove over her still, sleeping frame, memorizing her. The shadows under her eyes reveal her exhaustion. He wonders how long she's been there, and dares not move lest he disturb her rest. Possibly hours pass as he stares at her, watching her sleep, before she begins to stir. He gives her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Hey," he says, flashing her a smile.

"Peeta?" Katniss blinks once in disbelief and then, as if in slow motion, rises to wrap her arms around him. Dizziness fogs over his brain as he leans into her embrace. He breathes deep and loses himself in the sensation of the warmth of her lips, her breath, on his neck.

Suddenly she whispers, "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No." He gives her a light kiss before locking eyes on hers and resting his head on his pillow. "So what did I miss?"

She tells him how the Quarter Quell ended and that they're being kept safe in District 13.

"And your mother and Prim? My family? Are they here, too?" he asks.

She nods. "And of course Haymitch and Beetee. Finnick and Johanna."

For a moment the question lingers in the air before he asks it. "What about Gale?"

"He's here, too." She doesn't drop her gaze. It is he who looks away.

"You never said how I ended up like this. What happened before you shot through the force field and we were rescued?"

"You don't remember?" There is a long pause. Then, in a small voice, she answers, "You saved me."

His chest tightens a little. He didn't mean to upset her. "Katniss?"

She takes a deep breath. "Brutus was coming after me. You.. stopped him. But he hurt you." Her arms close around him again.

His forehead creases as he tries to conjure the memory. It feels familiar, but it's as if his mind is foggy and the memory is just beyond his reach. Trying to remember what happened then hurts his head, and so he concentrates on stroking her soft, silken hair.

"They told me you might never wake up." She makes a slight choking sound. "All I wanted was to save you, and it's my fault you almost died," her voice breaks off.

"No," he tells her. "No, Katniss. You knew I planned to protect you. I'm glad I was able to." His hands sweep across her back, trying to calm the tremor in her body. "I love you," he says and kisses her. A single tear escapes her eye. He cups the apple of her cheek in his hand and gently brushes the tear away with his thumb. "I made my way back to you. Like I always do," he whispers.

She sniffs and gives him a small smile before leaning her head against his chest. "Are you sure this doesn't hurt?"

"I'm sure," he says. He weaves her hair through his fingers. More consciously, he feels the bruises on his chest, and the dizziness and ache in his head, but he doesn't want to let her go.

All of a sudden, a white hot stabbing sensation rushes through his hand and spreads all over his body. He rips out the IV needle and flexes his hand while the unpleasant tingling lasts.

"What's the matter?"

The dizziness increases and the room grows bright. The light shining on the walls shimmers and glows to a blood red dripping down to the floor. His breath shortens. The room feels stuffy, almost suffocating. He craves the fresh air. "Let's go outside," he proposes.

He can feel her watching him. "Peeta, it's dark out. And you need your rest," she says slowly.

He shakes his head. "I can't breathe in here. Will you take me out?" His heart rate has risen. The rapid beeping distracts him, and so to stop it, he reaches under his cotton shirt and peels the stickers from his chest.

"You've been in bed for the last three weeks. Are you even going to be able to walk?" she asks. "I can get a wheelchair for you."

"No, I want to walk," he states, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

She grabs his hand and her other arm encircles his shoulders. As he slides off the bed, a flash of an old nightmare sears the back of his eyes, and his knees buckle. She doesn't let him fall, but holds him up until he can almost steady himself. Terror wrenches his heart, and panting, he clutches her hand hard.

"Peeta?" her voice rings out.

He takes a wobbly step and gravity seems to shift back to normal. "I can walk. Let's go."

Katniss leads him down a series of winding stone tunnels, and the memory of them running down the halls in the Capitol haunts him. She sticks close to him, should his step falter. As they begin climbing stairs, he can almost hear the peacekeepers surrounding them. He keeps glancing around at her to make sure she's really there with him, and that no one's following them.

Finally, they push through a heavy door and make it outside. The scent of pine seems to cleanse his airways, and he takes several deep breaths. Katniss observes him in earnest. "Is this better?" she asks. He can pick up the worry in her voice. "Loads," he exhales, and starts walking toward the woods.

The night is cool, but not chilly. Stars glitter in the violet sky and a gentle breeze rustles through the trees. Peeta calms as he takes in their surroundings. They are free to come and go as they wish. There are no cameras. And Katniss is safe. Relief floods him with every step.

They get a few yards into the treeline when he says they can stop. He plants himself onto the ground and rests the back of his head against a tree. She silently sits next to him, and entwines her fingers with his. "I'm okay, Katniss," he assures her. "I'm really much better."

The moonlight soaks them up, slanting through the tree branches. He can tell she's not totally convinced. And neither is he, really. The air grows still around them and the quiet throughout the land is too much for him.

"Will you sing something?" he asks, almost pleading.

An owl hoots from a few trunks over. She thinks about it for a minute, but then acquiesces. "What would you like to hear?"

"Anything. I just want to hear the sound of your voice."

And she begins to sing the valley song she sang on their first day of school. He can see her then: the red dress, the pigtails, the easy demeanor. He remembers how his heart stilled for a moment when he had first heard her voice. How silence fell outside the open windows as everything with an ear held its breath to hear her, as he does now. He closes his eyes and the dizziness creeps in. Her lyrical words entrance him.

Katniss' song comes to an end. Silence echoes for a brief moment before the song starts up again. Perhaps hundreds of mockingjays mingle their voices in the air. Peeta smiles and thanks her before leaning over to kiss her. She welcomes his lips and her fingers comb through his hair, making him want her more. He kisses her lips, her cheeks, her neck. He can't remember ever being so happy, and he pauses to gaze imploringly into her eyes. "Do you love me?"

"Yes," she nearly laughs, unable to hide her exhilaration.

A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. Barely able to believe it, he asks, "Really?"

Katniss grins. "I love you, Peeta." And she pulls him in to kiss him again. Bliss flows through his entire being. He has finally gotten to catch those words he so desperately wished to hear from her his whole life. But the moment fades too quickly, and he's afraid to lose her again. They are safe for now, but the war is not yet won.

He stops kissing her and just holds her. Dew in the grass catches the moonlight and sparkles as another breeze blows through the blades. Images flash through his mind: his hand ripped from hers, the blood smear on her face, her mangled body crumpled in a heap on the floor.

She brushes his hair off his forehead. "What's wrong?"

"I keep seeing my nightmares," he tells her.

"Want to tell me about it?" she asks.

He presses his eyes closed for a moment. "I was in the Capitol. They were torturing me. You came to rescue me, but I think you were caught before I ever saw you, because.." he trails off.

"Peeta?"

With tears in his eyes, he looks down at her. "You were an Avox. And I couldn't save you." He continues, "I know it wasn't real, but I just keep seeing it. Over and over."

And she surprises him by asking, "Peeta, would you love me even if I were an Avox?"

_Is that doubt?_ How could she think that? He makes to quell it and promises, "I will _always_ love you. No matter what."

She nods, but doesn't look at him. He raises her chin so he can meet her eyes. "Don't you ever believe anything different, Katniss." And he kisses her forehead.

They sit, arms locked together for a long time. Another spell of dizziness and white hot stabbing pain envelopes him and he slams his eyes shut until it subsides. A crying gasp emanates from Katniss and he looks down to see his hand gripping a knife that's been plunged into her heart. Paralyzed in shock, he witnesses the life pour out of her and the light die in her gray eyes, now dull.

"_Katniss!_" he screams. Denial fixes him, and he gently shakes her. He continues to shout her name, but with each cry he can feel any sort of hope ebb away from him until he cannot make a sound. He doesn't even know where the knife had come from.

The mockingjays' song bursts through the woods again and swells like waves crashing through the night. Her beautiful voice. The thing about her that really caught his attention. That caught _him_, really, and held him. Her hot, sticky blood on his hands. Sobs wrack his body as he cradles her in his arms. His tears soak her hair.

"_I love you."_

His head jolts up to stare at her lifeless eyes. The expression of surprise is still reflected in them, frozen forever. Unable to bear looking at them any longer, he closes them with his trembling fingers.

"_I love you." _

He whips his head wildly around, but nothing in the kaleidoscope of sparkly moonlight and dark shadows makes itself known to him. His heart is racing, pumping blood and pain throughout his heart and veins. He can't stop shaking, and so he just clings to Katniss, wishing it all a dream. Reality is too cruel, however, and so he does not wake.

Wing beats on his left rouse his attention. He stares at the shadow uncomprehendingly. "_I love you,_" it echoes in Katniss' stolen voice.

_A jabberjay. _

His body contorts in rage as memories of everything the Capitol has taken from him flares up within him. Something inside him breaks as it begins again, "_I lo-_," and in one fluid motion, he seizes the bird within his grip and snaps its neck.

The mockingjays hush and the land descends into silence, except for the merciless solitary beating of Peeta's heart.

A/N: Had trouble getting this updated correctly. :/ This story is exploring what is happening to Peeta psychologically and emotionally, rather than physically, while he's being tortured in the Capitol. None of this is _actually _happening. I'm sticking within the confines of the book. Also, this is not my usual writing style. This is me practicing my writing and trying to mimic Suzanne Collins', except for the fact that this is all from Peeta's perspective. I definitely feel weird writing fiction in the present tense, and so simply. My writing style is normally more show-y, scripty, (I use a lot more _pretty _words) without over-doing it. So I'd love to hear what you guys think as readers. Is it working out? Thank you to those who have already given me reviews. They are muchly appreciated. :)


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